So human,
You intrude within our sylvan lands,
To take with hatchet and brutish man hands,
Your kind are not welcome here,
So out of our wood should you steer,
Err into our glade,
And there’ll be more than green for shade,
Arrows will come,
Thorns and poison on some,
There will be no end to your pain,
In comparison hell will feel tame,
Your wives will wail in their beds,
And once you’re all pierced and dead,
We elves will descend from our tree,
And dance upon your corpse with glee.

  1. Carol anne says:

    good job on this one! ❤

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